


Reasons to Come Back to Bed

by all_the_kings_ham



Series: A Stairway to Nowhere [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ducifer - Freeform, Epilogue, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and, but hopefully a realistic glimpse into their lives after the story ends, domestic life, not at all a stand alone, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_kings_ham/pseuds/all_the_kings_ham
Summary: Dean is having trouble sleepingNick is just having trouble in general





	Reasons to Come Back to Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AltyEx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltyEx/gifts).

> This is the last I'll post for this story for a while, I promise T_T  
Sorry if some of you are hoping for a different update and it's just more of Dean and Luci having quiet domestic issues. I just wanted to give a little extra closure to the story, and it's therapeutic to write something so sweet <3

At first the set up had been awkward. Dean hadn’t shared a bedroom with anyone other than Sam. But it was strange how quickly he’d gotten used to sleeping beside Nick. It helped that the man was on a nearly opposite sleep schedule, not joining Dean until around three or four in the morning, only a few hours before Dean usually woke up. The only real downside of it was that their offset sleep schedules meant no good morning kisses before Dean took himself to work, and that was a little disappointing. 

Or at least it had been for the first couple weeks, until Dean figured out that if he took his lunch break an hour earlier then he could make it home for afternoon coffee with Nick around the time the man was crawling out of bed. 

It was an easy rhythm, and Nick thrived on consistency. 

Dean just didn’t realise he did as well until he found himself waking up, squinting at the bedside clock for nearly five minutes before figuring out why he wasn’t sleeping. It was almost six and there was no softly snoring lump beside him. 

Pushing up to his elbows, Dean looked down the short hall.

It had taken a little furniture rearranging to get it right, but they’d finally managed to put the other man’s desk at the perfect angle so that Dean could see it from their bed and Nick could see him from the computer.

It made heckling each other before bed easier, which was the excuse that they both used instead of simply outright saying that they felt better being able to check on one another.

Nick wasn’t at his computer. The monitors were dark and the chair pushed in.

Dean waited, listening to the night time sounds of distant traffic on the street and the washing machine down in the garage running its spin cycle. 

But nothing from the kitchen, and no backyard dog sounds coming up through the open bedroom window. Some nights Nick couldn’t sleep, the man was restless at best, but that usually meant throwing a ball around for Cookie and Loki, or sometimes making an overly elaborate breakfast to wait for Dean when he woke up.

Maybe ten more minutes passed before he finally rolled out of bed, pulling on his sweat pants and padding quietly through the house. 

If anyone else in the world had been out of bed then Dean would have still been sleeping, but it was Nick, and Nick just wasn’t  _ anyone _ . And Dean knew he’d never get back to sleep until he sorted out where the other man had wandered off to.

All house keys were hanging up where they should be. 

No one was on the couch watching tv. 

No dogs in the backyard.

And it wasn’t like his boyfriend to do nocturnal laundry, but the garage light was on, so that was where Dean went for lack of better options. 

It was a fantastically logical plan to Dean’s groggy brain, just an itch that needed to be scratched―right up until he opened the door to the garage and found no Nick. 

Confused, he nearly went back upstairs to get his phone and call the other man, except that itch got worse and Dean woke up enough to notice the little door between garages was open and the light in there was on too. 

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed and braced himself for what could only be a whole lot of bad.

It had taken him nearly three months to get all the parts he’d needed to get the Aston Martin running again. Another two weeks for some guys Dean worked with to do the body work and paint job―things that were outside of Dean’s skill set. 

A whole lot of work had gone into it, but the car was finally back home and looking sleek and classy like she was supposed to.

Well, looking mostly how she was supposed to.

The passenger door was open, and spilling out onto the cement floor were two very long legs that ended in flip flop tan lined feet with very long toes.

Dean loved Nick’s weird long toes.

“Hey man,” he scratched at the back of his neck, instantly awkward but also very determined, “you want some company?”

Nick’s voice came to him from a small and quiet place, so much softer than normal, “Well, obviously. That’s why I’m out here in the middle of the night... by myself,” the sarcasm just as strong as ever though.

“I mean… alright.” He lightly rattled the door handle, making as much noise as he could because he knew that Nick couldn’t see him from where he was laying over the car’s seats. “You want me to wait up for you?”

“No,” came clearly from the car, followed by a soft sniffle. 

And it didn’t matter that Dean tried telling his feet that they needed to take him back up to bed, because they simply wouldn’t move. It felt like an hour that he stood there, but in reality it couldn’t have even been a full minute before Nick’s toes curled restlessly and a long sigh filled the small garage.

“God damn it, Winchester. Get over here.”

Going back upstairs had been impossible, however his legs seemed almost too eager to take Dean the rest of the way to the car. He stood at the passenger door, his knees brushing the other man’s, looking at the very haphazard way Nick had spilled himself over the seats. Top of his head pressed to the driver’s side door, shoulder wedged under the steering wheel, hips tilted strangely to accommodate the gearshift, and those legs of his never having a chance to fit in there with the rest of him. 

Nick was holding himself, arms folded tight over his chest, but as soon as Dean came into view he reached out, fingers curling in a needy way.

Dean nudged at the man, pointedly not mentioning how red his eyes were. “Come on. Sit up and move over.”

“...I can’t sit in his seat.”

Which wasn’t something that Dean wanted to try and argue with. He raised his hands and went to walk around the car and take the driver’s seat for himself, but the other man’s ankles hooked around his and held him.

“No,” Nick had probably never learned how to not be difficult. “Just come here.”

It was a sports car.

There was no room to lay down in it, even though Nick seemed to be determined to spite the manufacturers. 

But Dean could easily be just as stubborn if not more so, and so he carefully crawled in after his boyfriend. One knee could fit between Nick’s, the other leg had to curl in front of the seat. Bracing his elbows awkwardly against the steering wheel and the driver’s backrest, Dean managed to look down at his friend. It couldn’t have been comfortable, not with the gear shift hitching Nick’s left hip up so sharply, but the man simply wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and squeezed. 

It left Dean with the awkward option to stay tense and careful of not crushing his friend, or hug back and lightly crush him. 

Dean hugged, pressing his forehead to Nick’s, arms cradling the man’s head. “You know,” he whispered, “I think the trunk might be the only place we’d fit worse, if you wanted to give it a try.”

Nick shook his head, eyes closed tight. He cleared his throat, and quietly said, “I heard you drive it home today You fixed it all up, but it still sounds the same.”

An apology might have been the right thing then, but instead Dean smoothed his fingers through a mess of blonde hair that was getting too long.

“I  _ hate  _ it,” Nick said holding him even tighter.

“We… we can sell it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Dean smiled. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever fully understand Nick, but he was positive that it didn’t matter. Months ago he’d been given permission to finish fixing the car―permission that came in the form of Nick asking Dean if he needed money for the car parts. It wasn’t a ‘go ahead’ in as many words, but it was the sort of clarity that the two of them worked well with. 

At some point, Nick had managed to tuck his face against Dean’s shoulder, wet cheek against his neck and neither of them mentioned it. 

“The, um, the paint color is a bit off,” Dean said with a need to fill the quiet. “Shockingly, after forty whatever years the original color is off the market, but I think the boys at the shop did a pretty good job.”

“It looks good.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Dean honestly thought it looked amazing, but he could try and play it cool.

“He would have liked it… you not so much, but yeah. He’d like the car.”

Dean chuckled, kissing the top of Nick’s head. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Aside from you having a crush on me?”

He laughed a little harder.

“Nothing,” Nick promised, his breath warm against Dean’s shoulder, “but he never liked anyone I dated.”

“Except, see but I’m a real charming son of a bitch. Everyone likes me eventually.”

A reedy laugh made its way out of Nick, and a wide grin spread over Dean’s face. It was always a good day when he could make his boyfriend laugh. Or a good night.

Back when him and Sammy had been kids, Dean had known what to do when he saw tears―but it seemed that the older he got, the less and less confident he was in these sorts of situations.

He pushed himself back up to his elbows and looked anywhere but directly at Nick while the man rubbed at his eyes. “Hey.”

Nick hummed softy.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda cute?”

Laughing again, Nick gave him a soft shove. “No. Literally no one other than you has ever called me cute.” 

“Well obviously everyone else is blind.” Dean kissed the corners of the other man’s lips, twice on each side just to be thorough. “You wanna come back to bed?” 

“...we could sleep here?”

“Yeah, no.” Dean shook his head, chuckling, “I can think of at least five reasons why that’s not going to work.”

One of Nick’s eyebrows hitched up questioningly. “ _ Five _ ? Really?”

Not to let an obvious opportunity to be annoying pass him by, Dean started counting his reasons off, “It’s uncomfortable as hell, the alarm is upstairs and I don’t want to accidentally sleep in… um, your face would make an awful pillow for me... and the rules for not being a fucking terrible boyfriend don’t let me leave you here.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “That’s only  _ four  _ reasons.” 

“And…” Dean traced his thumb along Nick’s jaw line, “and I love you?”

Grumbling in annoyance, the man turned his face away to hide a smile. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

“Well, yeah.” Dean kissed Nick’s cheek because that’s what he could reach. “If you don’t like it then maybe you should consider being less cute.”

With an exasperated sound, Dean was pushed off and laughing, he crawled back out of the car and waited for his boyfriend to do the same. There was nothing graceful about it, Nick lightly kicking and squirming until he managed to peel himself off the bucket seats, leaning against the car and lightly rubbing his side.

Even in a wrinkled t-shirt and with eyes puffy and red, Nick was gorgeous―at least Dean thought so.

Glancing up from what would probably be a lovely bruised hip in the morning, Nick’s eyebrows came together in a frown. 

“ _ What _ ?”

“You’re giving me that look again...”

“And what look is that?” Dean laughed, pretending that he had no idea what he was being accused of. 

Nick slid arms around his shoulders, twisting and turning until he could hold Dean in a crushing way, resting his rough chin against Dean’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“It’s nothing, man.” Kissing the side of his boyfriend’s head, Dean patted his back firmly before returning the crushing hug. “Come on. Bed.”

“Remind me why again?” Nick instructed, dragging his feet and refusing to be pulled back into the house.

Dean sighed, smiling in happy frustration. “Nick. Come on.”

“Specifically that fifth reason.”

Snorting softly, Dean pushed his head against Nick’s like a challenge, leaning into him with a possessive nuzzle. “No, you weirdo. I already said it once this week and you know the rule.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“You’re the one who made it,” he pointed out, grinning quietly.

Grumbling and mumbling, Nick pulled back enough to look Dean square in the eye. “Come make out on the couch with me?”

Very early on in their relationship Dean had learned that this particular offer was one of his boyfriend’s favorites, and also was practically guaranteed to get out of hand. Laughing but disappointed that he had to say no, Dean reminded, “You know Sam said the next time he caught us he’d get out the hose.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He  _ would _ ,” Dean promised.

Sam had been very clear just how much he didn’t want to walk in on the two of them  _ ‘going at it like teenagers, and always on my couch, I swear to god, Dean’.  _ Which had been followed up with threats of turning the hose on them, or going as far a retaliation sex with Gabriel in the back of the Impala. 

“Come on,” Dean took his squirrly and odd man by the elbows and tugged at him. “I’ve got to wake up for work soon.”

“You can go back up without me.”

“No, I really can’t.”

Nick let his head fall back, frustrated. “Then… we both go and you’ll be the big spoon?”

There were odd times when Dean still found himself surprised by this man, startled at how vulnerable he let himself be.

“Fuck yeah I will,” he promised.

If Nick had been some kind of small and compact person instead of six foot and change of muscle and irritability, then Dean would have picked him up and carried him. However, Nick was Nick, so he got a sturdy arm around the waist and a scattering of encouraging kisses―and that seemed to work well enough. 

Dean fell back asleep slowly, face buried in the soft smell of Nick’s neck, listening to the other man’s breaths relax and even out. It hadn’t been their first stressful night and it certainly wouldn’t be their last, but Dean considered them a very small price to pay for being able to wake up with an arm still tightly around this strange man that he’d found. 

  
  
  



End file.
